The Roads That Lead Us
by WhatGraceHasGiven
Summary: Greasers and Socs rarely had allout wars like the one they had that night in November. And they wouldn’t have another one for quite a long time after this, but the GreaseSoc war of November was something that nobody would forget. Nobody.


The Roads That Lead Us

**Summary**: Greasers and Socs rarely had all-out wars like the one they had that night in November. And they wouldn't have another one for quite a long time after this, but the Grease-Soc war of November was something that nobody would forget—if they were involved or not.

**Warnings**: Violence, some colorful language, and that's about it.

_Dedicated to all the people who take the time to review any of my stories—thank you. _

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_Central High School, Tulsa, Oklahoma: November 12th, 1967 _

Ponyboy Michael Curtis wove his way through the crowded hallway of his high school; the bell had just rang, signaling the end of school for the day, and teens rushed out of their classrooms, glad to be free to do as they pleased. Many of them had to hurry to catch the bus, which left fifteen minutes after school was ended. Many of them had after school commitments like volunteer work or a part-time job. And many of them were on the sports teams such as soccer, volleyball, track, or basketball. And some were lazy bums, like Pony's friend Two-Bit Mathews, and they had nothing better to do than drink and drive people crazy.

Pony's locker was down the hall, further away from his classroom than he liked, and he hurried to it. He didn't have track today, but he wanted to get out of the school and head home before any Socs saw him. Pony had never been jumped, but he didn't want that day to come anytime soon. Even Sodapop had been jumped before. It was a surprise that neither of the Cade siblings had been jumped yet; they slept in a vacant lot, they wandered the streets of Tulsa's East Side a lot, and they walked alone sometimes. They were open game.

David Williams, one of the more popular Socs in the school, and his little gang of friends made a barricade in front of Pony. Ponyboy frowned and his thoughts began racing. He wished a teacher would suddenly walk by or one of his friends would come over and help him out, but those hopes were quickly brought down. With one swift move of his hand, David grabbed Pony's notebooks and binder and threw them backwards without a second glance. The papers flew out and scattered in the hallway.

"Hey, Grease," David gave a glance behind him with only his eyes and looked at the mess, "those weren't important were they?"

Pony remained stony-faced, but he was getting scared. He didn't answer…not that the Socs would care much, though.

"Didn't think so," David made sure Pony was blocked on every available escape route before giving an evil grin.

"What do you want, David?" Pony asked in his tired, unconcerned voice. He wouldn't give the Socs the satisfaction of knowing he was scared. He wouldn't fuel their fire. And, suddenly, Pony was thankful that everyone in his gang knew how to look meaner than anything when they needed to because Pony knew how to do that, too, because of them.

"Hey," David raised his hands in a gesture that said, 'I'm not going to hurt you,' but Pony knew it was only a ploy, "I just want to have a chat! What's so wrong with that?" He kept grinning and put his hands down to his sides. Pony could tell he was about to say something smart. "After all, my father does help you with welfare, grease. It's a waste of money, but we have so much that we can waste whatever we want."

Welfare? Ponyboy felt anger rising in him, but he just kept that cool, unconcerned façade that seemed to be working quite well and pretended he wasn't hurt or angry about the welfare comment. "Get lost," Pony said in a warning tone, "you don't want to be on Greaser turf too late after school."

He wished he hadn't said that when David suddenly had Pony by the shoulders. David pushed Ponyboy backwards, still holding his shoulders, and slammed the Greaser into the metal lockers that had been behind him. There was a loud _clang! _as Ponyboy Michael Curtis' body hit the lockers. Pony's breath was knocked out of his lungs instantly and he tried to double over, but David had a firm grip on his shoulders, holding the younger teenager up.

Pony's breath was ragged as he struggled to breathe with aching lungs. It hurt to breathe and he didn't try to hide his pain and discomfort. David's face was close to him, David's foul, warm breath hitting Pony's face as he hissed...

"Consider this your warning, grease, but remember you won't be so lucky next time." As soon as David let go of him, Pony slid down the locker and doubled over on his aching lungs.

Pony could hear them laughing as they walked away, laughing and talking which soon got very distant. "Ponyboy?" It was a girl's voice, familiar and laced with concern. He heard the jingling of key chains and the light tap of sneakers on the marble floor, but Pony didn't bother to look up.

Jennie Cade scanned the scene of papers and Pony on the ground. She dropped her backpack and fell to her knees by her friend's side. "Are you alright Pony?" She put her hand on his shoulder and lowered her head, trying to see into Pony's eyes, which proved harder than it seemed because Pony had his head bowed down.

Jennie noticed that Pony had one arm wrapped loosely around his stomach and that his breath was ragged and short. She could tell he was in pain, but Jennie didn't think her friend was too bad off.

Pony took a deep, unsteady breath and looked up at Jennie. Now he knew it was Jennie, but he should've known before—Jennie had key chains looped on her backpack and they would hit each other, making a thick jingling sound, and Jennie only owned a pair of sneakers. "Yeah, I'm fine." He took another breath. "We should head home…"

"Yeah, the Socs are going to start walking around anytime soon." Jennie agreed, but she was hesitant. Was Pony really alright? What had happened? But she got rid of the questions, pushing them to the back of her mind until she could ask them at a better time, and she stood up, holding her backpack by the right shoulder strap and swinging it around onto her back. Jennie helped Pony get up and they walked down to Pony's locker before heading to the Curtis home.

_Curtis home, Tulsa's far East Side: November 12th, 1967_

"What reason do they got to go beating up kids in school?" Soda asked out loud, unable to hold his burst of hatred for the Socs. He knew the answer he was going to receive, but to hold his emotions in would be a bad idea.

"They don't need a reason, Soda, you know that." Steve said, his hands still grease-stained from working in the garage at the DX.

Soda said nothing else and suddenly forgot to be mad anymore, so he and Steve started a card game at the dining room table, shouting and laughing.

The door opened and Dallas walked in, moody and scowling. His left eye looked tender and puffy, and Jennie figured he would have a black eye for two weeks at least. But she was surprised to see him injured. Dally was _the_ toughest hood in their gang. He could handle anything and everything thing there was, and there was no doubt in Jennie's mind that he couldn't. She was only curious.

Dally, to Jennie's surprise, didn't light a cigarette. Dallas could be mean and inconsiderate, but he knew Jennie didn't like smoking, so he didn't smoke around her. It was as simple as that; Dallas was courteous to the people he liked, but that was very few people. "Tim is an ass." Dal muttered, adding a few more cuss words after that.

_Ah, so that's who did this, _Jennie thought. "Aw, Dal, you like Tim."

Dally snorted, but he didn't deny it.

"What happened, Dally?" Steve asked, an unlit cigarette in his mouth, and he looked under the table, cussed Soda out good-naturedly, and kicked the ace out of Sodapop's tennis shoe.

"None of your business." Dally snapped. He got up, walked to the kitchen, opened the icebox, and grabbed a cold icepack from the very back. As he was walking back to the armchair, he gently placed it to his eye and sat down.

Jennie looked up at him quickly from her spot on the couch, but then turned her attention back to her homework assignment. She was curious, but she knew better than to press the infamous Dallas Winston for an answer…unless she wanted her eye to match Dally's. He would tell her later, when nobody else was there.

"You're such a cheater, Curtis! You can't play one game without cheating!" Steve said from the dining room.

"I think number fifteen is false. The author specifically said so in the chapter and Mr. Syme even gave us the hint during class." Jennie said over Steve's shouting and ranting. They were almost done with their homework.

"And it can't be true because that would put the main guy out of character. I haven't noticed one nice thing about that kid from page one." Pony agreed.

The door opened, not as angrily as Dally opened it earlier, and Darry walked in. He could only be home for ten minutes and then he had to get ready for his date with a nineteen-year-old named Mariah Wilson. It seemed as if he'd only been home for a second when he was out the door again, calling a quick 'goodbye' to the gang, and then the others heard the roar of the engine and Darry was gone.

Two-Bit was the first to go home—to give his mom a favor and baby-sit his little sister—Steve, after six or seven million games of cards with Sodapop, left for his home, too; Dally had fallen asleep in the armchair, his eye already beginning to bruise; Ponyboy had dropped off a little before Two-Bit left; Jennie and Johnny decided to leave, too, but Soda knew for sure they had no where to go except the lot; and, finally, Soda fell asleep on the couch waiting for Darry.

And when the eldest Curtis brother did finally come home, he just smiled and went to bed.


End file.
